by paperbkryter

Written for ValentineMichel's "How I Spent My Metropolis Vacation" Challenge

The ring opened his eyes to many things. The ring and Jesse had opened his eyes to the man in the mirror. She had been attracted to him on a whole new level, a purely physical level, something which he'd never really picked up on before. Sure, Lana had come after him under the influence of the Nicodemus but that was because of the flower itself, not because she was attracted to him like that.

Clark rationalized. Kal knew the truth. His vision had been clear when Jesse had looked at him and licked her lips. He had seen her eyes linger on his crotch. Clark might not want to think about such things as sexuality. Kal did.

Sex was power.

Kal liked power. He liked it when people looked at him with respect, and longing. Some wanted to be him, others wanted to be with him. He'd enjoyed the hungry look Lex Luthor had given him and played on it, using it to his advantage. One very nice ride had been the result, and not that kind of ride. Kal left with his virginity intact, and Lex's car. All Lex had gotten out of the encounter was a bad case of blue balls and a burning desire to know what else was hiding under Clark's homespun exterior.

Upon experimentation Kal discovered that Lana had more will power than Lex. He thought he'd had her. He'd said pretty words to her, and kissed her, and she'd wilted beneath his touch like a sun-scorched flower. Kal wanted to see how far she'd go if he let her. As it turned out - not very. He'd been disappointed but not for long, because Jesse was not only willing, but much easier to seduce than either Lex or Lana.

Like a cat with a mouse, he'd played with her for hours. They'd danced and drank at all the bars they could sneak into from Smallville to Metropolis before parking. Coercing Jesse into letting Kal explore her wasn't hard, and neither was he. He was much more intent on her pleasure than his own, loving the way she moaned between his hands, and writhed beneath his tongue. Her body language was unmistakable, even to his virgin eyes, as she raised her hips toward him in a silent plea to enter.

Kal got her off, and then called it a night. Her confusion was more exciting to him than the cries she made when she came, her perplexed expression more erotic than the touch of her hand on his cock. With his own hand sheathed in one of Lex's driving gloves, Kal had finished the job himself, stroking steadily until he was thrusting hard into his leather clad hand. It felt good, but not nearly as good as the feeling he'd had earlier that night, when he was in control and he had all the power.

When the ring was taken from him he'd grieved, Clark's conscience beating his own desires to death. Clark's grip tightening like a noose choking the life from him. Guilt ridden, he'd not even thought about sex for months. No wet dreams, no beating off in the shower, and not even an erection upon waking in the morning. He'd shut it off, and slunk around like a monk in plaid flannel, wearing shirts a size too big and baggy jeans that looked like they'd been run over by a plow.

Sexually squashed.

Pete caused him to slip. He'd lost control. Seducing Chloe had been as easy as cutting butter with a hot knife, and he would have taken her without games. It was she who screwed up his plans by suggesting they stop at the Talon. Kal had been angry at first, and then pleased. He'd fuck Chloe all right, right under that cold bitch Lana's nose, up against the garishly painted wall of the Talon. Sullivan cherry, and it was all his, until the damn rock fell out of his pocket.

Clark had been appalled to come to his senses wrapped in Chloe's arms with a hard-on and something more serious on his list of eventualities. He'd not only planned on having Chloe, but had been completely convinced of his ability to seduce Pete into a threesome. It wasn't the sex he really cared about, but the seduction. He fed off of it like a vampire. Pete was patently heterosexual. Kal had wanted to break him.

The stone fell out of his pocket, and Clark tightened the noose.

Kal seethed within the bonds of conscience. Nurture suppressed the alien desires, the arrogance and greed. Clark carried on without thinking twice about his baser instincts, never once conceding that the humans he consorted with were far beneath him. He struggled to maintain his status quo, but it was starting to slide askew. When the shit hit the fan, Clark broke, and Kal was free once again.

The game was beginning to bore him.

Tonight he had a pair, Rachel and Fran. Both were tall and slim, one a red-head and the other brunette, and he'd found them strolling downtown after leaving a concert. His "line" had been to comment about their walking alone without escort, and he'd offered to accompany them to their destination. Their destination had been their hotel.

They'd hesitated at first, but Kal knew how to charm. Tousled hair, long lashes, and a coy look attracted their attention. His strong arms, bulging from the sleeves of his T-shirt, and the swell of his thighs beneath tight denim, had set the hook.

Fran asked him how old he was and he'd told the truth. They were both twenty-seven and didn't believe him, as if somehow being so much older than he they knew everything. He was a virgin, he said, and they'd laughed at him. Sometimes he lied, but more often he told the truth, enjoying the increased desire his virginity produced in his victims. He became more because of it, and his power over them increased.

Clark had honed his fine control. Kal used the skill with aplomb, twisting the knife in at just the right moment. Fran was being difficult, insisting on touching him as he fondled her companion, and Kal had to take her down a peg. She lay sprawled on the bed before him, legs spread, her cunt glistening, whimpering as the last of her orgasm swept over her. Rachel had watched him intently as he'd pleasured Fran. Now she reached out for him and he knelt before her, licking his lips.

It wasn't that her moans didn't turn him on, far from it. His cock was hard, straining against the denim of his jeans as he tongued Rachel's folds, seeking the softly pulsing node that would make her moan. Her hips bucked up into him but he held her down. A surge of moisture against his lips encouraged him to explore further, his fingertips moved across the soft skin of her thigh, down to her opening. He slid his index finger deep inside her, applying pressure upward, and alternated an in-out motion with swipes of his tongue.

Rachel's long nails scraped across his scalp as she ran her fingers through his hair. Her hips continued to strain against him. Kal paused frequently, letting her tension build, before returning to his work. Her moans pleased him. She begged for his cock, and he refused to acknowledge her need. When she came she cried out his name.

Kal felt a hand at his groin, nails scraped across the bulge in his pants, and he slapped the hand away. Fran pulled back, offended but his pretty smile and a kiss soothed the hurt. She lay back down upon the bed next to the whimpering Rachel, and waited.

He pulled up a chair at the end of the bed, sitting down after letting his jeans down around his ankles. No underwear graced him, he never wore underwear. Let them feel him beneath his jeans, trace the ridges of his cock, the prize he'd not let them have, through the taut cloth. He laughed to himself as he settled back in the chair. They could look, touch, but never truly feel.

They both started to come to him, Fran first, but he pushed her away with his foot.

"No," he said. "Watch."

He tortured them, watching through half lidded eyes as he pleasured himself. Their eyes followed the slide of his hand over his cock with hunger in their expression. He cupped his balls in his other hand, rolling them between his fingers as he teased the head of his cock with a feathery touch. It felt good. It felt better knowing it was his, and his alone. He shoved Fran back again, shook his head at Rachel, and worked his fist up and down the shaft of his penis.

Who do you love, Clark? Show me.

In the back of his mind Clark cowered, whimpering in fear. He was a sensual creature, this dispossessed alien, with desires surpassing any human boy his age. Nothing mattered to him but the sex. Male, female, he loved as easily as he befriended.


But it was true. Kal knew it. He got off on envisioning Lana's pink glossy lips around his cock as easily as he pictured Lex's scar stretched white from encompassing his width. The tight warmth of an ass was as tempting as the slick opening of a pussy. He could and would take either, if he were so inclined.

He wasn't. It was too easy. This, this denial, was far more exciting. Holding himself back was more difficult than simply taking what he desired, and there was something erotic about that. It was perhaps a case of sadomasochism, in which he played both master and slave over his own body. He'd placed himself in a mental chastity belt, and it felt better than anything he'd ever experienced before.

His eyes found the two young women before him, both now kneeling at his feet, their nipples hard and jutting out before them as they leaned forward to caress his thighs. His mouth was filled with their taste. He could smell the musky scent of their sweat filling the air and he longed to have the heat of a soft feminine body surrounding his throbbing erection. Denied that, his hand began pumping harder, his hips rising and falling against the chair. His body spasmed. Come exploded from his cock, spilling onto the arm of the chair, and into the floor.

Rachel took his hand and licked his fingers. Fran touched his fading erection. She smiled as she caressed him and his cock responded, showing her he had more left to give, and making her want him that much more herself.

Kal disengaged her hand. Rising, he jerked on his pants and went to the bathroom.

"I'll be right back," he said, his fingers lingering in Rachel's hair as he walked past. "Then we'll get down to business."

It was a lie. He was done with them.

Bets were taken once Kal's reputation was established. Beautiful men and women came out to Atlantis to try their hand at seducing him. None could. Some he allowed close, allowing them to get him alone, allowing them to hold him, or caress him, but in the end he left them cold. The longer he remained virginal the more power Kal wielded. That was his reward. He would come home from a night out and masturbate to the vision of those he had left wrung out and wanting. He got off, often, they did not.

"See what you've taught me," he whispered, staring into the mirror, smiling at his reflection. He raised a hand to the glass, touching his cheek. There was no love better than self love. His own beauty seduced him, made his blood race and his cock grow hard.

No one else could have him. No one else was worthy of him.

He smiled again, and turned away from the mirror, slipping into his leather jacket as he prepared for another night on the town. On the way to his usual haunts he stopped at a bar near his apartment and picked up a slim blond with torn jeans and a tight T-shirt. He claimed to be twenty-one but Kal knew he was lying. The two of them danced for a while in a club near the Atlantis, grinding into each other and often doing more kissing than dancing. The boy's mouth was hot, and sensual. Kal made it swollen and bruised with his kisses, enjoying the way the boy moaned and sucked at his tongue as if it were his cock.

They retreated to the men's room eventually, and Kal slammed his young companion up against the wall of the last stall. He was stripped of those torn jeans and finger fucked until he came, writhing in Kal's hands, his knees buckling. Kal abandoned him shortly after, vanishing into the crowds and eventually leaving the club alone. He heard later that the kid was heart-broken.

Kal didn't care.

I want to go home.

Clark cried in his sleep. Kal woke with his face streaked with tears and his body aching from the sobs that had shaken it throughout the night. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling smug.

Knowing the depth of "Clark's" grief was very much like knowing those he seduced would never get what they wanted. It turned him on, made his hand stray to his cock. Home? What was that?

Please, don't!

He clenched his fist around his cock and squeezed.

Stroke, squeeze, stroke squeeze....

It was akin to rape, only he was raping himself.

Kal laughed a little. Poor Clark, Kal was making it worse for him. What would happen if Kal decided to remove the ring, and let Clark have his freedom? What would happen when desires awoke and Clark found himself unable to control things as Kal had done? Ah, well that would be it for the power of virginity. Clark would break.

What will you do, Clark? Will you cut loose and fuck someone? Rape someone?

His hand quickened a little on his cock. Kal could sense Clark's fear building. It could happen, if they lost control. They could take without permission.

Or maybe you'd go down on your knees, let Lex fuck your ass. You know he wants to, the way he looks at you*. Maybe you'd like that better, huh*? Maybe Chloe should watch. Maybe suck your cock while Lex fucks you....

Kal groaned. He came over his hand and lay back against the pillows, panting as the last twinges of orgasm shivered down his spine.

"You will obey me, Kal-El."

He sat upright in bed with a growl. The voice of his father echoed through his skull.

"You will stop this idle mischief, even if I have to send you back. This is not your destined path."

Pain. It shot through his chest, burning along the lines of the scar. It ran down his arm and into his hand until he felt as if his skin was being flayed from his flesh. The ring cut into his finger like a razor blade and he screamed.

Crawling from the bed he fell to the floor. His hand clutched madly at his finger, wrenching the ring from where it had rested for the past two months.

The pain instantly faded.

Clark lay curled around himself, sobbing, the ring lying on the carpet beside him. The scent of sweat and come assaulted him, making him feel ill. He could feel Kal's fury inside him, pacing back and forth like a lion in a cage. Clark clawed at the carpeting and felt his fingers sink into the wood beneath it.

He sat up slowly. Jor-El seemed to have gone as suddenly as he'd came, growing abruptly silent. Clark dragged himself to his feet, stumbling past the ring, and into the bathroom where he threw up for what seemed like ages. He washed his hands, splashing water onto his face, before slumping to the floor with his head in his hands. Guilt fell like blows upon his shoulders.

Going home was not an option. He'd - killed - taken the one thing his parents had wanted more than anything in the world. Clark didn't trust his powers, didn't trust the voice of his father compelling him to do things he didn't want to do, and he certainly didn't trust himself. Kal had shown him what he was capable of, and Kal was right. If he lost control....

I'll castrate myself, I swear to God, before it comes to that.

His stomach churned again. Thoughts ran through his mind like needles, thoughts of guilt, loneliness and grief. Clamping his hands around his head he tried to ride it out, and couldn't. His thoughts created an ache in his chest different from the burning of the scar. He felt as if he were going to explode.

"No, no. Leave me alone!"

Clark stumbled to his feet, tripped over the carpet as he exited the bathroom, and ended his journey half crawling across the floor. The ring glittered in the light streaming from the bathroom and Clark reached for it with trembling hands. It would shut everything off, end the pain. He needed Kal. Kal was more powerful, more in control. For all the bad things he did, Kal wasn't a killer of babies.

The ring slid over his finger easily. It settled into place and the raging cacophony in Clark's head ceased abruptly. He collapsed onto the rug with a gasp, and rolled over onto his back to look at the ceiling. Jor-El remained silent too. All was good.

The girl was a darker version of Lana. She wore black leather, and her hair was cut short. Her pale green eyes were lined with thick black eye liner and her lips were glazed not with pink, but with a dark, blood-hued red. Kal was attracted to her the minute she walked into the club; he along with everyone else in the room. She, however, set her sights on him, and breezed through the crowd in a cloud of some exotic scent he could not place. Everything about her said, "new in town." Kal certainly had never seen her before.

He also recognized a fellow predator when he saw one. He watched her cross the room and pause here and there with a man, teasing him before moving on to another. Her eyes were on Kal the whole time. Standing at the bar sipping a drink, clad in tight denim and dark blue silk, he knew how he looked and worked it, flexing his muscles as he raised his drink. His tongue caressed the lip of his glass, tantalizing her, hinting at what else he could do for her. He saw her lick her lips in response. Blood red, her lips glistened in the muted light and he found himself wondering if keeping his virginity was worth giving up fucking that luscious mouth.

She introduced herself as Liza, and wasted no time in any further conversation. Pressed up against a wall near the restrooms, they engaged in a serious round of kissing. It was oral sex in the most literal of terms; open mouths and questing tongues in an exchange of breath. Kal sucked her painted lips clean, and left angry read welts upon her throat to mark her as his. He thrust his hips against hers, clawing up her skirt to slip a hand over her cunt. She was bare to his hand, wearing no underwear beneath the leather skirt, and she gasped as he fingered her.

He lifted one of her legs and thrust, feeling her hot, wet pussy against his cock. Only the cloth of his jeans was between them. Part of him wanted to make her the one, but he suppressed that desire. He would let her go a little further, then take her to a room somewhere and tease her all night long. This was the kind he liked, who were so sure of themselves. This was the kind he liked to disappoint.

And she would be disappointed. Her hands were already clutching at his belt, scraping over the bulge in his jeans as she thrust back at him. That she needed him inside her was obvious. Kal smiled, chuckling softly as he anticipated her reaction to being denied his cock. Her desperation would make everything that much sweeter.

The thrill coursing through him suddenly changed, making him gasp as he pulled away from her. She looked at him, puzzled, as he stared at her in shock. At first he thought she'd done something, hurt him in some way, but then he started feeling the burn and knew....

"I...have to...."

Tearing away from her, Kal lunged into the men's room, clutching his chest as he collapsed into the far stall. He pulled the door closed behind him and struggled not to scream from the pain. Sweat broke out across his forehead to run down his grimacing face. Doubling up on himself he pressed his hands tightly over his chest, trying to snuff out the agony as if it were the flames of a fire. It only increased. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe....

The ring clattered against the tile floor.

"As these beings are not worthy of you, neither is this behavior. It will cease, Kal-El."

"I won't be your pawn," Clark hissed. "Leave me alone!"

"You will not disgrace yourself in this manner."

"I don't care. I won't go back." Clark leaned forward and snatched the ring up off the floor, gasping as it slid coolly down his finger. Jor-El's voice was snuffed out completely.

But so was his desire.

Infuriated, Kal put a hole in the bathroom wall with his fist, and rather than go out and face Liza, he escaped through the window.

"I want you," Lana whispered.

Clark reached out to her with a trembling hand, and touched the softness of her bare skin, his fingers gently tracing a circle around one erect nipple. She came closer, into his arms, pressing her body against his. Her hands reached out to cup his face.


He bore her down to the bed. She parted for him easily, submitted to his kisses, his fondling, his cock, as he had always dreamed she would. Her kisses were sweet. Her long dark hair tangled in his fingers and felt like the silken threads of a spider's web - so soft. The warmth of her body filled him with joy.

"Lana," Clark murmured into her throat, his back arcing as he thrust into her her. She was silent save for the softest exhale of breath. "Lana?"

Green eyes were still, glassy. They stared off to a distant point beyond his shoulder, and held no light. The lips that had whispered his name with so much affection were slack, tinged blue beneath a pale smear of lipstick. He felt the warmth of her body fading, leeching out into his as if he were some sort of vampire, sucking the heat from her. When he touched her face, he could see then that her neck was shattered and broken.

He looked into her dead eyes and realized with horror he was still fucking her, still thrusting into her body as she lay limply before him. His fingers dug into her cold flesh, jerking her back against him, making her head loll on her body like that of a rag-doll. Her hair fell in tangles across her face like a black veil. Clark could no longer see her open eyes. He could only feel her body around him, growing colder and looser as death settled in and he couldn't stop, couldn't stop, couldn't...stop....


Muscles protested as he jerked upright, the bed groaned as he sunk his hands into the mattress, tearing great gouges into the padded cover. His sheets were wet with sweat, his pajamas with come, and he shook with chills that wracked his body from head to foot. With the back of his hand he wiped away snot and tears from his face, but continued sobbing despite himself, despite the ring that burned on his finger.

It was Jor-El's doing.

Kal jerked the sheets away and dragged himself to his feet, tearing the soaked pajamas away as he shuffled to the bathroom. Leaning heavily on the sink he stared into the mirror. He could see Clark there in the dark circles beneath his tear streaked eyes, and the worry line across his forehead. He ran water, and washed his face.

I want to go home.

"Shut up. You saw what will happen if you do."

No. I won't let it.

With a roar of rage, Kal raised both fists and shattered the mirror. He struck it once, then twice, sending slivers of glass raining down across the tile floor like deadly, glittering raindrops. He stood among them, unharmed, still shivering with an unnatural cold.

It was ten p.m. Time to go hunting.

"You look - different." Chloe said.

Kal ignored her, pushing a cup of coffee across the table toward her. She accepted it gratefully.

"You shouldn't be here," he said.

"I was just out with friends," she retorted. "You shouldn't be here. Everyone is worried sick. Nobody knows where you are...."

"And that's the way it's going to be." He reached out a hand and grabbed her arm. "Do you understand, Chloe? You tell anyone, anyone where I am and I'll disappear for good. I'll go where no one can find me."

She stared at him, shocked at the fury in his tone.

He tightened his grip. "Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Clark, you're hurting me."

And he had hurt her. Her arm was an angry red where his fingers had tightened around it. Bruises were already beginning to form beneath the skin she rubbed gingerly as she frowned at him.

She had followed him, after seeing him stumble from a bar clutching his chest. Another attempt to "hunt" had left him in pain. Like Pavlov's dog he was beginning to understand the lesson, and had broken off his attack after just a few minutes of kissing. Chloe found him in an alley, gasping for breath, shocked that it was him and wanting to call an ambulance. He'd shrugged her off, but agreed to go with her for coffee.

"Are you all right?"

He nodded, but squeezed his eyes shut on the memory of her near seduction in the cushions of a couch at the Talon. He recalled the silken texture of her black camisole, the scent of her perfume as he'd kissed her neck, and the way her body fit so well against his. Chloe, of them all, had come so very close to....


Kal's shakes returned as he fumbled for his wallet and produced a fifty, which he flung down on the table. "I have to go."


Turning on his way out, he pointed at her. "Remember what I said, Chloe. Keep your mouth shut."

He fled swiftly, using his powers to disappear into the night, back to his apartment, where he burst through the door feeling the onset of another attack from Jor-El. The bed was still a mess. He fell back onto it anyway, ripping the ring off his finger before the pain could get any worse.

"Chloe...." Clark's eyes filled with tears. "Chloe, help me."

Angrily he flung the ring away, heard it bounce off the wall somewhere onto the floor, and didn't care. Unseeing, acting on blind instinct he reached for the phone and dialed, holding on to the receiver as if it were a life raft and he was adrift on the sea.

The thought reminded him of Lex, and he choked. Someone, at least, had been spared. Lex was beyond being hurt by anything Clark did.


Mom. Mommy. Help me. I don't know what's happening to me. It's like I'm being torn apart. No matter what I do, someone is going to get hurt, and the pain...I can't...Mom!

"Clark? Is that you?"

Clark hung up, collapsing across the bed, the phone falling from his limp fingers as he sobbed into the tangled sheets.

He could not face her. Not after the death of her baby, not after everything that he'd done here.

Somewhere deep inside him, Kal was laughing.

Kal prowled the city looking for trouble. Sometimes he put a stop to it, sometimes he joined in, his hunting becoming less focused on sex and more focused on his other powers. Now instead of stopping just short of losing his virginity, he stopped just short of killing. The sensation was very similar. An orgasmic rush coursed through his veins as he stood poised on the verge of taking the life of some puny human creature, only to choose sparing that life. It was the could have that excited him. He could kill, and get away with it. Nobody could stop him.

Jor-El's attacks became fewer and far between. Kal was learning what set the old man off, and what didn't. He understood now that he was a superior being, royalty, and had to maintain a certain dignity. None of these salivating whores were his sexual equal. He would not contaminate himself with them again. He thought of Lex, and was saddened by loss of the closest thing to royalty these creatures had. Thoughts of Lana entertained him, aroused him. She would be his one day, and if she sacrificed her life for his pleasure, so be it. What was she to him?

When she showed up at his apartment, he decided it was time to stop waiting. He'd take her, possibly kill her to keep her quiet, and move on from Metropolis toward a greater goal. Morgan Edge was the key to Kal-El's future. With his help, destiny would be served. First he would take over a city, as Edge had done, and carefully build his power until he fulfilled his father's wishes.

He didn't think Lana would betray him, nor did he understand the depth of Clark's love and fear. Kal's control wavered, but Clark's did not. Instead of taking Lana, he abandoned her, drove her away and prepared to run. When Jonathan Kent found him, instead of killing the man, he'd shattered the ring. Jonathan's life was spared, Kal was contained once again, and Clark went home with a new outlook on life. His self confidence rose up to suppress all of Kal but what he needed. Clark now held all the power and was far more prepared to deal with it, more so than he'd ever believed he could be.

As a superior being, he decided, it was not his duty to enslave his people, but to save them. If that meant making sacrifices, he would make them, because such sacrifices were more within his abilities than they were anyone else's. He could do without love, and sex, and material things. He had learned how to judge between the lesser of two evils, and to accept the things he could not change. He understood that sometimes it was much better to look but not touch.

He pushed his thoughts of love away, and embraced who he was without them. His friendship with Chloe blossomed again. He found the pain he felt whenever he saw Lana to be a beautiful sensation, feeding his addiction without any further action on his part. Lex's resurrection pleased him, allowing him to bask in Lex's secret affection, the desires they both suppressed, and enjoy it all without acknowledgment.

Denial was oh, so sweet.

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